


On The Theory of Spontaneous Generation

by FantasticalFairyFarmer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/F, F/M, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Time Travel, also not tagging relationships yet, i literally update every two days bc i have no life, im not tagging the whole cast
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28756680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasticalFairyFarmer/pseuds/FantasticalFairyFarmer
Summary: Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, and Luna are taken back to 1978 after an accident in the Time Chamber of the Department of Mysteries during the fight with the Death Eaters in 1996.Will they find a way home? Or will they succumb to the urge to change the past?
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 92





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This do be my first time travel HP fic. Pls bear with me as I figure out the ~vibes~

**June 18, 1996**

“ _Crucio_!”

Neville screamed, his legs jerking up to his chest as Bellatrix Lestrange momentarily held him off of the ground. She dropped him just as quickly as she had started, her wand still pointed at the boy who now lay sobbing on the floor.

The Death Eater laughed. “Give us the prophecy, Potter, or watch another generation of Longbottoms _crack_!”

Harry looked down at the stupid ball in his hand, the swirling letters of his name taunting him.

Suffice to say this was not going the way they had planned. Luna, Hermione, Ron, and—oh Merlin don’t look at her ankle—Ginny were unconscious and collapsed on the floor of the Time Chamber. Neville was next to Harry, his nose broken and dripping blood, trembling hands just barely holding Hermione’s wand. They were surrounded by Death Eaters, and worst of all, Sirius wasn’t even here. It was all for nothing.

“Too slow, Potter.” Bellatrix hissed, “ _Cru_ —"

It was all for _nothing_.

Quick as lighting, Harry raised his wand, not really certain of what he wanted to cast. All he could think was of how much he wished he were in Hogwarts, or the Burrow, or even to the Dursley’s. Anywhere but here.

Before Harry knew it, the room exploded around him as a spell met the wall of Death Eaters. Windows and time turners spat shattered glass and he flinched at the tiny shards piercing into his skin.

Later, the last things he would be able to recall were visions of gold sand swirling around him and the earth spinning out of focus.


	2. Bloody Noses Are No Good for Time Travel

**June ??, ????**

Neville’s nose was blocked and his body ached all over. Was he coming down with something?

The cold, hard floor under him was not helping. He wished someone would use a good old _Spongify_ on the floor, maybe paired with a warming charm. Or no, not a warming charm, maybe if they used something stronger, like _Incendio_ —

The memory of searing hot pain and his own echoing screams spilled unbidden into his head. Neville’s eyes jerked wide open.

The Department of Mysteries! How could he have forgotten!

He sat up, wincing as his muscles cried out in protest. Clouds of golden dust fell from his clothes, and he tried as hard as he could to fight off the urge to sneeze. His nose felt like it was three times the size it should be.

Looking around, he saw his friends next to him, still passed out in uncomfortable positions.

The rest of the room looked much like it did when they had arrived. Where had the Death Eaters gone? Had they taken the prophecy and then just…left them all here?

Neville’s eyes spun back down to Harry, who was lying on the floor next to him. Harry’s glasses had spider cracks spanning them and his clothes were torn and covered in blood. The prophecy, however, lay untouched in his hands.

What? That must mean…

Neville felt panic flood through his veins. This was probably some sort of trick. The Death Eaters were lulling them into a false sense of security before they sprung to attack again. His eyes flit quickly around the room, trying to see if he could spot any shadows of movement in the corners.

Nothing.

Neville’s nose hurt too much to think straight. Oh Merlin, he wished Harry was awake. Or Hermione. She always knew what to do.

He took a deep breath, air rushing his mouth. Alright.

Alright he could do this. He was a Gryffindor, not a kneazle kitten. If the Death Eaters were giving them time, then he’d better well use it.

Neville looked down at himself, taking stock of what he had: Hermione’s wand—bleeding toadstools he could still hear the crack of his father’s wand snapping in Dolohov’s hands—his robes, a couple sickles and maybe a knut, and five unconscious friends.

Okay not looking great so far. Maybe the room had something to offer?

Neville scanned the room. The Time Chamber was bathed in gold light, most of which was emitted from the various time-related devices and their sands. 

Messing with time was dangerous though, he couldn’t risk doing that.

Actually, maybe they should just leave this Chamber all together. Too much could go accidentally wrong.

Neville looked back down at his friends and winced. He supposed the first thing to do was to stand up himself. He braced himself and slowly pushed up to his knees. Swirls of grays and purples threatened to obscure his vision. Gritting his teeth, he shoved himself up with his arms and stood.

Neville felt nauseous. And was it just him or was the floor moving? He figured there was no real way to tell, especially in the Department of Mysteries. Better to be safe than sorry. Neville reached out and grabbed the closest piece of equipment to him: a shelf filled with cuckoo clocks. 

Now what?

Thankfully, he didn’t need to come up with any further plans; Ron’s eyes snapped open and he shot to his feet unsteadily, wand arm ready.

“Neville?” Ron asked, too loudly. Neville winced and put a hand to his head.

“Sorry, mate,” Ron whispered, kneeling down to examine the bodies at his feet and pick up Harry's shattered glasses. “Bloody hell, what happened? The last I recall Gin and I were in the Brain Room—”

“I don’d doe,” Neville said miserably, “You were dalking funny earlier, hid by a _Confundus_ or sobeding, and Harry and I were fiding Dead Eaders and now—”

Neville gestured around himself helplessly.

“Now you don’t know where they are,” Ron finished for him, wide eyed, “Merlin’s saggy tits. I knew we should’ve called Dumbledore.”

“We’ve god do ged oud of here before dey cobe back,” Neville whispered, “Tibe bagic’s no good do fide around. Bud…I don’d dink dey’ll be in any sdade do walk”

Ron caught on, looking over their unconscious friends. “ _Wingardium_ on three?”

Neville nodded and the two of them cast the spell, lifting the others into the air. Neville was unsure if he actually did anything; Hermione’s wand wasn’t working all that well for him.

Ron began walking left and Neville ran to catch up to him, careful to not drop the “charm.” “Where’re you going?”

“I reckon the Death Eaters’ll be in the Hall of Prophecy.” Ron glanced back at the door that led there, “Better put as much distance between us and there as possible.”

That made as much sense as anything else did. Neville followed Ron as he led the floating sleepers into the entrance hall of the Department of Mysteries.

As soon as they had left the Time Chamber, the door behind them slammed shut.

Neville’s eyes widened, remembering the way the doors had spun around them when they first entered. He quickly spun around to face the door to the Time Chamber.

“ _Flagrande!_ ” he cast. No luck with the wand.

With no red X formed, and as soon as the doors began to rotate around, they lost the door. Ron swore behind him and Neville turned back to see his face scrunched and his muscles tensed.

Oh right, the levitation charm.

“Put theb down for now,” he suggested.

Ron grunted before looking around at the doors. “Any idea which one’s the exit?”

Neville shook his head. None of Hermione’s old markers were on the doors anymore.

“Ub, do we jusd…check one by one?” He asked nervously.

Ron made a face at that. “I don’t suppose we’ve got any other options?” he asked, slowly lowering their sleeping friends to the ground.

They looked uncomfortable. Neville wished he could cast a quick _Spongify_. Ginny’s ankle didn’t look too hot either, actually. Neville wished he knew healing magic.

Ron walked over to one of the doors and made to open it. “Stob!” Neville cried out, wincing as he realized they were meant to be sneaking. “Whad if dey’re waiding on da oder side?”

“I’m sure they’ve got better things to do,” Ron said, though Neville could see him hesitate.

Neville looked back down at their friends. Could they risk _Rennervate_ -ing them? Harry’s cuts were bleeding but they didn’t look all that bad and Luna almost looked as if she was just asleep.

Before he could suggest it though, the noise of a door opening next to him startled him into looking back up.

A man wearing funny, brightly colored robes and a tie around his head came out of one of the rooms and froze at the sight of them. His eyes widened and flit between Neville, Ron, and the figures on the floor.

Before Neville could react, the man raised his wand and cast a spell. Alarms began to ring through the building. Neville panicked and did the first thing that came to mind.

With one swift move, he decked the man in the stomach watching the man collapse over himself.

“Are you serious?” Ron said, looking at him incredulously from his position at the door, “ _Stupefy!_ ”

The man crumpled to the ground.

Neville winced. Before he could apologize though, groans called his attention back to the floor.

Harry and Hermione appeared to be in the process of waking, each wincing and attempting to sit up.

“What happened?” Harry asked, feeling around the floor next to him, “Does anyone have my glasses?”

“Nothing good, mate. We’ve got to get out of here,” Ron answered, tossing the broken specs to him. “Hermione, you think you can stand?”

Hermione’s face scrunched up, and she proceeded to puke the contents of her stomach onto the floor before responding with a weak nod.

Neville rushed to help her stand. Harry wore his glasses and blinked at the prophecy he still held in his hands. “Did we win then?”

“Er, nod quide,” Neville answered nervously, supporting Hermione’s weight. “We can dell you all aboud id, afder we’ve lefd. Do you dink he cabe frob da elevator?” Neville asked, nodding to the crumpled form of the ministry worker.

Ron shrugged, “Best guess we’ve got. Harry, help me with Luna and Ginny?”

The two of them lifted the girls and started heading to the door, Neville and Hermione limping after them.

“Wait,” Hermione called out hoarsely, stopping all three of the boys. “Let me just.” She motioned waving a wand.

Neville handed hers to her. With whispered words, she cast a set of concealment charms over the lot of them. The sight of Ron and Harry disappearing in front of them was disconcerting, to say the least. Thankfully, Hermione was attached to his arm, so he could feel her if not see her. “That should keep eyes off of us, but it won’t stop everything,” she warned.

“If we get split up, meet us by the fountain in the Atrium,” spoke Harry’s disembodied voice.

Neville did not get the chance to respond, as not a moment later, the door swung open. Fortunately, it did appear to lead to the elevator that would take them down from the Department of Mysteries.

Unfortunately, out of the elevator exited a handful of ministry guards and Aurors.

Neville inhaled sharply. Hermione’s grip tightened on his arm.

As silently as possible he pulled Hermione and himself off to one side, letting the guards brush by them.

Once the guards passed them, settling next to the _Stupefy_ -ed worker, Neville slipped into the elevator and pressed for it to closed it shut as fast as he could, hoping Ron and Harry had gotten in with them.

Neville almost had a heart attack with every floor that they stopped at, more and more ministry workers piling into the expanding elevator. It felt like a century had passed before they finally made it to the Atrium.

The Atrium looked the way it always did, with its high peacock blue ceiling and moving gold symbols. Floo fireplaces lining the walls blazed green with constant use, wizards coming in and out of them at a steady rate. No one seemed to be in much of a hurry or panic; Neville figured it was typical of the Ministry to not alert the Wizarding World that there was something wrong in the Department of Mysteries.

In the center of the Atrium was the giant statue fountain in all its gaudy glory. Neville and Hermione stopped at one side of it, just under the centaur spitting out water. Briefly, Neville wondered what his parents had thought of the fountain. Frank and Alice Longbottom had been Aurors, before…before. They would’ve passed it every day.

Hermione began to support more of her own weight, although the hand that wasn’t around her stomach still held his in a death grip. She made a confused noise and Neville looked down in her direction.

“Something’s strange here,” Hermione muttered, “What is she wearing?”

Well, that was unexpectedly rude. Neville looked around to see if he could spot who she was looking at. Maybe the lady sitting down on a bench and eating a sandwich? But she didn’t look all that bad to him, though he supposed it did look kind of old fashioned, like something his mum would've worn in old photographs.

He watched her eat. Strange that life could still be so normal for someone after all they had been through. He glanced around nervously. Where were Harry and Ron?

Suddenly, Hermione tugged on his arm and began walking determinedly away from the fountain. Neville could do nothing but follow as she lead them to a man who leaned against a wall, reading a the Prophet.

Neville frowned at the title piece declaring a “Muggle City Attacked, 5 dead and 7 injured.” The Daily Prophet wasn’t usually so honest.

Next to him, Hermione gasped, “No!” Neville’s eyes swiveled down, wishing he could see her. “This can’t be possible!” she whispered shakily.

Suddenly, she pulled on his arm again, running in a different location. Neville had to duck out of the way at least three times to avoid hitting the ministry workers milling about.

Belatedly, he realized Hermione was following another couple with the Prophet. Was there an article he was missing? Had that Muggle City been where her parents lived? Neville wished he could read the article more carefully, but they were moving too fast and all this running around was making his nose throb.

Hermione seemed to find what she was looking for. “No!”

She pulled hurriedly him to another lady reading the paper. “No, no, no!” she cried. Finally, Neville realized what she was looking at and his heart stopped.

The date on the paper read June 19, 1978.


	3. Plans Made to be Broken

**June 19, 1978**

Ron watched Ginny groggily eat the hospital food she had been given by the elderly muggle nurse.

The nurse was so old, actually, that she might actually be _dead_ in their time.

Merlin’s balls. Ron rubbed a hand tiredly across his face.

As soon as he and Harry had found Neville and Hermione by the fountain, Hermione had filled them in on what she knew. Apparently, the Death Eaters weren’t in the Time Chamber when they had woken up because they wouldn’t be there for another _seventeen years_.

Ron was no expert on Time Magic the way Hermione was, but even he knew that this was beyond dangerous. One wrong move and they could send the whole timeline into disarray. They needed to get back into the Time Chamber to set things right, and they needed to do it fast.

But they could worry about all of that later. Even Hermione eventually agreed that with the state that they were in and the heightened security the alarm caused in ministry, they were hardly going to be able to break back in tonight.

The most pressing issue for them was definitely their injuries. Ginny’s ankle needed setting, and Neville’s nose was so purple it looked like he had an aubergine strapped to his face. After some discussion, they agreed that they couldn’t risk going to Hogwarts, just in case they met someone who knew them, and they didn’t have the government papers to go to St. Mungos.

Harry suggested that instead, they could just go to a muggle hospital. And so, they found themselves, some five or so hours later, sitting in a muggle clinic.

“Muggle casts are so itchy,” Ginny grouched, shifting restlessly, “Are we sure that the Death Eaters didn’t come back in time with us?”

“Shhh!” Ron hissed, looking around to see if the muggle nurse was still nearby, “Pretty sure, though. Harry still has the bleeding prophecy doesn’t he? Any of You-Know-Who’s folks would’ve taken that right to him.”

Ginny pushed around some peas listlessly. Ron eyed the dinner rolls on her tray. It had been too long since he’d last eaten.

“Say, you think the muggles would give me a tray—” Ron started.

“Hermione says we’d best be leaving now,” Harry said, sticking his head into Ginny’s curtained off bedside, “They’ve given Neville enough painkillers to make his head a bit wonky, but his nose is alright.”

Ron sighed and stood. The rolls would have to wait.

“You good to go, Ginny?” Harry asked, entering the room properly and handing her crutches.

Ginny shrugged. “My foot’s three times the weight it should be, but I’ll be fine.” She grabbed the crutches and tested walking with them in circles for a moment.

Ron looked back at Harry. “Has Hermione gone and done…you know _it_ yet?”

Harry nodded seriously. They had agreed that the best way to proceed would be to _Obliviate_ the muggle doctors so that they could leave as little of a trace of their existence as possible.

Ron shuddered at the thought of messing with their minds, but Hermione had just winced and said she knew how to do it if no one else could.

Once Ginny nodded that she was ready, they went out and met the others in the clinic lobby. Neville was rubbing the bandages on his face uncomfortably but looked otherwise fine.

Hermione and Luna held in their hands a blue medical bag full of…muggle stuff. Ron couldn’t quite be sure what it was, but judging by Hermione’s guilty look, it definitely wasn’t part of what the nurse had told them to take.

Ginny snickered next to him. “It’s not like they’ll miss it! I just took some painkillers and bandages,” Hermione rushed to justify, “We need them more than they do!”

“It’s fine Hermione,” Harry consoled before turning to the group at large. “So…Knight bus?”

Before coming to the hospital, they had pooled all of the money they had together, muggle and wizard. It totaled to 4 Galleons, 10 sickles, 13 knuts, and 5 pounds.

“If the Knight Bus fee is eleven sickles each,” Hermione had fretted, “That’s almost all our Galleons right there!”

“It’s not eleven sickles,” Luna corrected, “It’s eight!”

Harry had frowned, “No, Luna I’m almost certain it was—”

“It is eleven sickles in 1995,” Luna explained, “But in 1978 it’s just eight.”

And so, it was decided that they would take the Knight Bus to Diagon Alley and stay overnight at the Leaky. Hermione had hesitated going to such a public location, but ultimately agreed once she realized that without the Hogwarts library, the best bet they had at finding books on Time Travel would be in Diagon.

Once they reached the street side in front of the hospital, Harry stuck his wand out and they waited.

This was kind of exciting, actually. Ron had never been allowed to ride the Knight Bus; Mum was a bit strict about only going out with Portkeys and Apparition.

With a screech and a bang, the Knight Bus and all of its towering three stories rammed to a stop in front of them.

“Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard,” hollered the young witch in the drivers seat, “Just stick out your wand hand, step onboard, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Rosie Mallone and I’ll be your conductor this—Oi watch your step there, mister!”

Neville, still hazy from the painkillers, tripped on the stairs and pushed Ron straight into the shrunken head hanging from the rearview mirror.

“Mind your space!” the head crowed at him. Ron threw a glare at Neville and slunk off to sit next to Luna.

“The bus is absolutely full of Gulping Pimpies. Isn’t it wonderful?” Luna said dreamily.

Right. Ron had forgotten that even off the potions Luna was batty.

He turned to Hermione, who was shrinking their newly found medical supplies and putting them into a transfigured bag. “When we get to the alley, we need to get food. I’m starving.”

She frowned, and for a moment Ron prepared himself to argue that dinner had been nearly half a day ago. He was surprised when she actually agreed with him. “You’re right. We’ll all work better on full stomachs.”

“I wonder if the shops will be different,” Ginny mused, “I remember Mum saying first year that she hadn’t bought any of her cauldrons from Potage’s.”

“Flourish and Botts should be around,” Neville said, “And Ollivander’s and the Magical Menageire. They’re all practically as old Hogwarts.”

Ron wondered if Florean’s had opened yet. He wouldn’t mind a scoop of butterscotch ice cream.

He turned to Neville, about to ask if he knew about the ice cream parlor, but paused as he watched Hermione clutch her stomach, looking sick.

He frowned. Neville and Ginny might’ve been able to treat their wounds at the muggle hospital, but they didn’t have anything for curse damage. They would need to go to a wizard healer’s for that. And even at a wizard healer’s there was no guarantee that they would know the counter to whatever dark spell she’d been hit with.

The Knight Bus rammed to a stop. “Leaky Cauldron!” Rosie called out, “All who’s wantin to get out, get out or forever hold your peace!”

The six of them got out and entered the Leaky without much hassle.

As Hermione stepped forward and asked Tom the price of rooms and if they could use the back entrance to Diagon, Ron took the chance to look around the pub. It hadn’t changed much, in Ron’s opinion.

The pub was as relaxed as was expected for a chilly summer morning, it’s patrons groggy and eating breakfast quietly in their work uniforms.

One such patron, a witch dressed in patch-covered periwinkle robes, read a copy of Witch Weekly. On the cover was a witch dressed in ridiculous, bright orange robes and the declaration that the next big fashion trend would be paisley-print hats and crup-fur boots. Mum had a pair of those that she kept trying to pawn off on Ginny.

A smaller print line with a familiar name caught Ron’s eye. It declared that the mysterious and handsome Black family heir was a bachelor no longer, and to head to page 9 to read the full scoop on his fiancé.

Ron snorted internally. He had seen Sirius clean up after Buckbeak too many mornings to imagine the ex-convict as mysterious. 

Hermione thanked Tom for the trouble and motioned for the rest of them to follow her into the back.

With practiced taps of her wand on the brick wall, Hermione opened the door to the Alley and stepped through.

Unlike Tom’s, which felt familiar even seventeen years in the past, Diagon Alley not at all the way he remembered it.

The main length of the Alley was still crowded, early morning shoppers rushing to get their things. But something was off, in the air. It seemed tense, like they were waiting for a sword over their heads.

Right, the war. 1978…that would’ve been when the first set of the Order had been most active.

Ron inhaled sharply.

Blimey, 1978, that meant that his uncles, Gideon and Fabian were still alive! He could…he could meet them, talk to them about all the things that had happened in their family, tell them how much Mum missed them.

Ron quickly shook his head. No. That would be messing with the timeline, like Hermione said. He couldn’t interact with them, even if they were so close by. Otherwise, who knew what would change. He didn't want to accidentally end up preventing his own birth or something. 

The six of them made their way to a little teashop next to Flourish and Bott’s to grab something to eat and discuss their plans.

Neville and Ginny went off to order, leaving Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Luna at the table. The way Hermione sat heavily in her chair, arm still around her middle, was worrying. Ron debated whether he should ask her about it now or wait until he could pull her off to the side.

“Do you really think Flourish and Bott’s will have books on time magic?” Harry asked suddenly. “It seems a little bit…illegal.”

Hermione frowned. “Well, I suppose you might be right. But what other options do we have?”

“We could try looking around Knockturn,” Ron suggested, “though I’ve never been, so I’m not sure they’ve even got bookstores there. Harry, do you remember seeing any?”

“I wasn’t there very long, I’m not sure,” Harry considered, “Borgin and Burkes had loads of magical objects though, I wonder if they have anything that could time travel.”

Ron snorted. “Mate, no offense, but I reckon the stuff they’ve got there’s more likely to curse you than help you.”

Hermione nodded in agreement. “Still, Knockturn is a good second option if Flourish and Botts doesn’t have anything.”

With that, the four of them settled into a comfortable silence until Luna spoke.

“Harry, you really do look rather like your father, don’t you,” she said dreamily.

“Er, yeah, so I’ve heard,” Harry blinked at her, confused.

“The eyes are wrong, though,” Luna said, tilting her head to one side, looking over Harry’s shoulder.

Ron followed her gaze down the street and spotted two wizards, walking down the street. The shorter one commented something, and had a had a scrambling sort of walk to catch up to taller wizard’s confident strides. The taller wizard wore square framed glasses and laughed a strangely familiar laugh.

It was only at Hermione’s gasp that Ron realized he was staring directly at the faces of James Potter and Peter Pettigrew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will i ever get to the point? or will i just move my characters from one location to the next and call it a day? 
> 
> stay tuned to find out <3<3<3


	4. A Fare Trade

**June 19, 1978**

Ron was the first to move, grabbing Harry’s head and shoving him face first into the tablecloth. Thankfully, Harry made a confused noise but didn’t protest.

Tense seconds counted by as the two Marauders came toward them.

Oh God, what would happen if James Potter saw them! Or even worse, Peter Pettigrew! They would never have been able to explain why James Potter suddenly had a lookalike running around. Mentally, Hermione berated herself for being so clumsy.

McGonagall had entrusted her the principles of time travel with the understanding that she was mature enough to know its consequences! Who was she to think that she could flaunt the rules so callously?

Hermione had already been taking more risks than she would have liked, and the list of people she and the others had spoken to in 1978 was only growing. First the muggle nurse, then Tom, then the teashop cashier, and now they had almost been spotted by one of their parents!

She had tried to justify speaking to Tom and the teashop cashier based on the fact that they would never recall a single interaction they had seventeen years prior. And the muggle nurse…well Hermione had taken care of that.

Thankfully, the two Hogwarts students made their way passed the table without so much of a glance in the time travelers' direction. Hermione let out he breath she was holding. This was getting out of hand; they needed to leave.

Ron let his grip go loose, and Harry sat up, fixing his glasses.

“Guys what—” Harry froze. Hermione figured he had finally caught site of the two boys who were now entering Madame Malkin’s down the street.

Hermione didn’t like the look on his face. Her stomach throbbed painfully and she grasped it before hitting Harry’s arm and hissing, “Stop, they’re going to see you staring.”

Harry’s face remained impassive. He did not tear his gaze away. Hermione turned back to Ron and Luna. 

“We can’t stay here. I should’ve known; Diagon is too well-trafficked. Who knows who else we’ll run into,” she whispered.

That, and the price Tom had given her for the nightly room fee at the Leaky was nowhere near what they had on them. Luck was not in their favor in Diagon Alley.

Hermione’s eyes began to burn as her stomach began to throb once more. How had this happened?

No. Panic was not the solution. Logic, they needed logic.

With a deep breath she began sorting through the mess in her mind. They couldn’t stay in Diagon (or really any wizarding place), couldn’t break back into the Ministry until they had at least a good night’s sleep on them, and couldn’t talk to Dumbledore or any of the other important people in their lives for fear of changing the past.

Somewhere Muggle, she realized. But they couldn’t just loiter like homeless teenage vagabonds in Muggle London, they’d have to go somewhere they wouldn’t be disturbed. 

Quickly, Hermione began filtering through the different muggle places she knew. They couldn’t go to the suburbs in which her parents lived. Or would live, in the next 5 years or so. They couldn’t go to Little Whinging, either, or Ottery St. Catchpole.

Oh, what about that forest, the one where her parents had taken her camping when she was younger. What had it been called? Hermione frowned, thinking. Right, the Forest of Dean! It was muggle and remote, the perfect place to stay out of people’s way. They could go there and stay for a day or so to regroup.

Well. Saying they could simply go there was more easily said than done.

Hermione calculated their funds briefly. They were just short of what they needed for a trip somewhere on the Knight Bus. It was probably for the best to not use up all their money at once anyways; they could try selling something to pay for fare instead. But it couldn’t be something that would identify them. Hermione looked over the others.

Neville was talking in hushed tones with Harry, who still looked angry and a little hurt. Hermione winced. Harry was probably still shaken up from seeing his father alive and well. Better to leave those two alone for now.

Luna sat on her own, admiring the alley and shoving the occasional chip in her mouth. She had several potentially sell-able accessories, from the colorful clips in her hair to the bracelets adorning her wrists. But could Hermione really trust that no one would recognize her bizarre flobberworm clips in the future? No, they were too showy.

Ron was filling Ginny into what had happened. They both wore hand-me-down robes and clothes shrunk down from their siblings. Siblings that…Hermione did the math in her head. Siblings that would be entering Hogwarts in a matter of a few years. Too close in the future to let their robes litter the shops of Diagon.

That left herself. She looked over her clothes. She couldn’t take off the plain black robes she wore, since they covered her school uniform. Showing the uniform would lead to nothing good; if the uniforms had changed sometime in the next 17 years, they would immediately be spotted as time-travelers, and even if not, being outed as Hogwarts students skipping class would be difficult to recover from.

Hermione cursed her lack of interest in her appearance; if she had just taken Lavender or Parvati’s unsolicited fashion advice she might’ve had her own bracelets and charms to sell.

Hermione’s eyes slid down to her shoes. Well. If it there were no other options, then so be it. She cleared her throat, calling the attention of the others.

“I have a plan, I think,” Hermione explained, “We’ll need to take the Knight Bus once more.”

“Knight bus to where?” Ron asked through a mouthful, motioning to the plates in front of them, “You should stop thinking so hard and eat. We’ve been up for too long.”

Hermione scrunched her nose in distaste. “I’m quite alright, thank you. As for the location…”

She filled the others into her plan to go to the Forest of Dean.

“Sounds to me we’ve not got much of a choice,” Ginny said shrugging.

Ron nodded in agreement, and Neville followed suite, albeit a bit hesitantly.

“I’ve never been to a muggle forest,” Luna said, smiling, “Quite exciting, really.”

“Harry?” Hermione asked him. Harry didn’t respond. Hermione took this to mean he was fine with the plan.

The six of them finished their meal in silence. Hermione tried to stomach as many bites as she could, but whatever curse she had been hit with was making her more and more nauseous. She wished she could go to bed.

They left the tea-shop as the morning sun began to settle closer to mid-day and ducked into an alley off of Diagon that was less crowded. Ron pulled out his wand and called for the Knight Bus.

“Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch—Oh!,” Rosie said, surprised, “You lot again. Finished with your business in Diagon then, I take it?”

Hermione froze. Was it possible that taking the Knight Bus so many times in a row was unusual enough to be remembered ten years from now?

Too late now, anyways. Pushing forward with a smile, Hermione nodded bashfully. “Actually, Ma’am—Ms. Mallone—we don’t quite have the fare to cover the trip for all six of us.”

Rosie frowned. “Sorry, miss, fare’s fare. Can’t be letting you ride without it.” She began to close the doors.

“Wait, no!” Hermione quickly stuck her hand to stop the door from closing. She dropped to a knee and unbuckled her shoes, “Would these cover the price?”

Rosie’s eyes widened as she took in the polished black merry janes. “Uh, miss, I don’t think—”

“Please, they’ll sell for more than fare is, I swear it,” Hermione insisted, handing the pair as gracefully as she could to the driver. Maybe she should have sold the shoes at a store at Diagon instead of this.

“Hermione,” Ron hissed at her side. Hermione shut him up with an elbow to the side.

“I—I suppose,” Rosie frowned, taking the shoes and putting them in a box near her feet, “All aboard then. Where to?”

“The Forest of Dean,” Hermione replied as the rest of them filed onto the bus and sat down.

Rosie nodded, turning back and calling, “You’ll be wantin’ to brace yourselves now!”

Hermione rushed to sit down next to Ron just in time. The Knight Bus swerved once quickly, and then they were on their way.

“What in the name of Merlin’s most baggy Y-fronts was that?” Ron asked incredulously.

“We didn’t have enough sickles for all six of us,” Hermione sighed, rubbing a hand over her face, “And we’ll probably need all the coins we have later, if we need to come back to Diagon or the ministry to do research.”

“Actually, er,” Neville interrupted, “I might have Diagon covered.” Hermione turned to him, surprised.

Neville held up what looked like a rock, “I picked this up right before we left.”

Ron’s eyes widened. “Bloody brilliant, mate, I didn’t even think of that!” He slapped Neville hard enough on the back that the boy was jerked forward in his seat.

“What is it?” Hermione frowned.

“Just a rock,” Neville admitted, “But we can make it a Portkey to Diagon.”

At once, Hermione remembered what she had read about creating Portkeys; using the _Portus_ charm on any item would create one that took you straight to the location from where you acquired it. Why hadn’t she thought of that!

“That’s perfect, Neville,” she beamed, “good work!”

Neville smiled weakly and pocketed the rock once more.

“Right, but I thought the whole point of this was that we _weren’t_ going back to Diagon,” Ginny frowned.

“I think,” Harry spoke for the first time since the café, “we should definitely go back to Diagon sometime.”

Hermione stared at him for a moment and then decided that she was not ready as she wanted to be to broach that topic with him just yet, so instead of replying she simply nodded and looked out the window, watching the streets fly by.

A piercing pain went through her side.

Hermione winced, reaching out to grasp her middle once more to alleviate the pressure. Her stomach was an issue she was not sure how to deal with. So far, thankfully, the curse hadn’t left her incapacitated, but she didn’t know how long it could go untreated. That, and her brain couldn’t stop coming up with worse and worse curses that she had been struck with. What if the pain she was feeling was because the Death Eater had vanished some vital organ? Could she have gone along this long without a liver?

The Knight Bus’s startling lurch to a stop thankfully distracted her from her thoughts.

“Forest of Dean!” Rosie hollered.

Hermione led them off of the bus. The ground was uncomfortable but fortunately warm under her feet. She figured if she were really looking at the silver linings of this experience, it was nice that they had been dropped off in the summertime and not midwinter.

Unfortunately, the campgrounds the Knight Bus dropped them off at did not look as familiar as she had hoped. She sighed, supposing that expecting to be dropped off at the campground she spent summers at was unreasonable.

Nevertheless, as the one with the most experience with the forest, Hermione began leading the others down a trail into the woods.

Mostly, they hiked the trail in silence. Hermione glanced back at them, trying to gauge how far they would be able to walk. Ron looked a bit better now, but the hitch in his gait told her he wasn’t nearly as awake as he was pretending to be. Neville looked about the same, slowly trudging along the path. Luna walked in step with Ginny, steadying her every time her crutches got caught on roots. Harry trailed them all, staring resolutely at the ground.

Once Hermione deemed they were sufficiently far along the trail, she veered them carefully into the woods. A half-mile or so out from the trail was far enough, she hoped.

When the tree-line broke into a small meadow after an hour or so of trudging through the forest, Hermione brought them to a stop. “This looks alright, I think."

Ginny groaned, sinking to the ground and propping her broken ankle up on a rock, “Bloody finally.”

Hermione took in another deep breath. Her work wasn’t quite done yet. With the help of Ron, Luna, and Harry, she cast every ward and muggle-repelling spell she could think of. She would really rather not have to deal with any tourists, no-matter how well-intentioned they might be.

Once the meadow was as safe as knew how to make it, she finally settled on the ground with the others, her eyes drooping.

If anyone stumbled upon the meadow just ten minutes later, they would have found the late afternoon sun shining brightly on six strange teenagers who slept splayed out on the forest floor.

And they would need the rest, for their adventures had only just begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did in fact mean to publish this like 3 days ago but i have the attention span of a goldfish 3 redbulls deep so it didnt work out <3<3<3


	5. Diverging Paths and All That

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up this chapters split into two perspectives! (Ginny in the first half and Luna in the second)

**June 20, 1978**

Ginny idly tapped the edge of one of her crutches on a rock.

“Merlin, ‘Mione, we’re only human! Between the six of us we’ve split a single meal for two, Gin’s got a broken foot, Neville’s face is still in wraps, and don’t think I haven’t seen you wince—” Ron argued

Ginny tuned him out, hitting the rock harder.

The morning had been awkward, more than anything else. At least when they were running to and from Diagon Alley they had a focused goal.

“We’ve been here over 36 hours now! We don’t have time—” Hermione started.

Ginny rolled her eyes. Now they sat in a circle in the meadow, well rested, and none of these blithering idiots could seem to agree on what would come next.

“I think,” Harry interjected. “That before we do anything else, we need to figure out what to do with this.”

He held up the prophecy, skimming his fingers over the letters on its surface.

Ginny sat up straighter. She had wondered the very same. The prophecy was the reason they were stuck in the past in the first place. It’d better be worth it.

Hermione hesitated. “I don’t know. Do we really want to know? If the Death Eaters were after it, it couldn’t possibly be anything good.”

Harry frowned. “But…it’s got my name on it. It clearly concerns me.”

Ron opened his mouth to counter that. Ginny could sense another round of pointless arguing.

“Oh, give me that,” Ginny said, swiftly relieving Harry’s hands of the prophecy.

Before Harry or any of the others had so much of a chance to widen their eyes, Ginny snapped open the glass container.

A thin, strangely familiar voice spoke. “ _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches..._ ”

Ginny froze, nearly dropping the glass ball. The voice continued, unyielding.

_“Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… The Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...”_

The glass ball snapped itself shut. Ginny sat stiff, still holding it out. The meadow was eerily silent, like they were all holding their breaths for something more. Ginny almost wished she hadn’t heard anything at all. Almost.

“Well,” Ginny said just to say anything at all, “bright side is we know why the Death Eaters wanted it now.”

“Born as the seventh month dies, the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal.” Hermione recited, dazed. “Harry, you were born on July 31st. And your scar, that's where he marked you!”

Ginny turned to look at the boy sitting next to her. Harry stared at the ground, a hand absently tracing the mark on his forehead.

“Either must die at the hand of the other,” Ron said, “Bloody hell mate, you never get a break, do you.”

Harry snorted. “Believe me, I almost expect it now.”

Neville frowned, “It’s a bit vague though, isn’t it?”

All eyes turned to him. Ginny could see his ears turn pink. “Er, I just mean, I was born in late July too. And…my nan always told me that my parents faced Voldemort three times. If I can fit two out of the three parts of the prophecy, I bet loads of people can. We can’t know for certain it's Harry.”

Hermione nodded quickly. “Neville’s right. We can’t jump to conclusions like that.”

Ginny frowned. “Are we really forgetting that Harry’s name is on the bloody prophecy? I don’t think it gets much clearer than that.”

“He chose him,” Luna said suddenly. “On Halloween, in 1981. That must be why they sent Death Eaters to your parent’s house, Neville. The Dark Lord knew it had to be either you or Harry, and he was covering all his bases. But he chose Harry.”

Ginny winced as she watched Neville’s face lose its color. She had not heard that something happened to Neville’s parents. Ginny wondered if that was for good reason.

“Well,” Hermione squeaked, “Well, that’s enough of that. We shouldn’t…worry about all that until we get home. Back to the more immediate problem; the time traveling one, that is.”

Ginny stared at her incredulously. Ron, however, seemed to agree.

“Yeah!” he said, too loud, “So, er, where should we go to do research?”

“I was thinking about it, and we’re near enough to Oxford right now,” Hermione tentatively suggested. “They’ve got a Wizarding department, right?”

Neville nodded slowly, regaining some of his color now that they were on safer ground. “Yeah, my great Aunt Finny went there, majored in Merfolk Relations.”

Hermione nodded encouragingly. “Then there must be a library as well. We can take a muggle bus there.”

“Right!” Ron clapped his hands together and stood, “Shall we head out then?”

Ginny pushed herself up on her crutches a little bit slower, cursing the clunky muggle technology under her breath. A Mediwizard could’ve fixed her ankle with a single spell.

“Oh, um!” Hermione said. Ginny looked up and saw she was looking at Harry, who was stopped in an awkward crouch as he made to stand.

“I—I think it’s best if that you don’t come, Harry,” Hermione said, apologetically, “Just, what with your family resemblance, and the prophecy…”

Harry frowned, looking as though he wanted to argue, but Hermione barreled on, turning to Neville. “You too. If Luna’s right, and you’d fit as well…we’d best not take any chances.”

Neville’s shoulders drooped, but he sat back down without complaint.

“It’s alright, I won’t going either,” Luna said with a consoling pat on Neville's shoulder, “My parents will both be at Oxford right now. It's best that I don't see them.”

Ginny stared at her. She hadn’t met Luna’s mother before her death, but she had certainly met Xenophilius Lovegood. Not exactly an Oxford man, that nutcase.

“That works out,” Ron said encouragingly, “Half of us off to the library and half here in the meadow.”

“While I’m glad we can all do basic maths,” Ginny said, stretching, “Can we please get a move on?”

“Speaking of maths, we’ve got some muggle pounds, enough to take the bus down, but probably not round-trip,” Hermione said, counting their change. “We should make some Portkeys to get back here.”

The wards they had set wouldn’t let anyone Portkey directly into the meadow, so the six of them quickly found some twigs and rocks just outside it and cast the _Portus_ on them.

Hermione quickly distributed them, giving them one each. “But…we’re not going anywhere,” Neville said, taking his.

“Just in case,” Ron shrugged, “what’s that thing Mad-Eye always said? Constant Vigilance.”

With a quick set of goodbyes, Ginny limped after Hermione, who was heading in the direction of the trail back to the main road.

“You’re really trusting Harry to not leave the grove after all that?” she asked once she caught up.

Hermione waved off her concerns. “Harry’s smart. He knows what would be at stake if he left. I’m really more concerned about whether or not the Oxford library will let me in without shoes.”

\--------

Luna hummed to herself, picking wild roses. The others had been gone for about ten minutes.

“I can’t believe they just left us here!” Harry said for the fifth time.

A gentle breeze blew through Luna’s hair. It was a pleasant afternoon, in a pleasant place.

“I mean, what are the expecting? For us to sit and make flower crowns all afternoon? No offense, Luna.”

“None taken,” Luna smiled, “Anyone would feel worse when they’re hungry.” She held out a flower to him, munching on some of the petals herself.

“I’m fine, thanks,” he said, turning away. Luna offered it to Neville, who sat next to her, instead. He smiled weakly but shook his head.

“I can’t just sit here. We need to do something.” Harry said, stopping in front of them.

“There’s nothing we can do,” Neville said forlornly, “I don’t even have a wand.”

“That’s not true,” Luna interjected.

“Yes…it is?” Neville seemed unsure of himself.

“Yes,” Luna agreed, “I meant the earlier bit, about there not being anything we could do.”

“What we ought to do,” Harry said with some finality in his voice, “Is go back to Diagon with that rock Portkey.”

Neville sighed and flopped onto his back. Luna cast a softening charm under him.

“And what would we do, in Diagon,” Neville asked tiredly.

“I—I don’t know! Something better than just sitting here,” Harry fumbled.

“We can’t go back to Diagon Alley, Harry, you know why. We saw why.”

“And—and so what if we did?” Harry argued, “so what if we saw them and they saw us. Maybe, just maybe it would be better if—"

“No. We can’t mess up the timeline,” Neville insisted.

Harry huffed and started pacing once more. “You don’t know what it’s like. My father, he was right there! And,” Harry’s voice broke, “And I didn’t even properly see him, you know? I was too busy looking at the rat standing next to him. If we could just warn them—”

“You don’t think I know what it’s like? Harry, look at who you’re talking to,” Neville whispered, sitting back up and wrapping his arms around his knees, “We were in the ministry. Both of my parents were Aurors; they would have been working there that morning.”

Luna stood. This discussion was not likely meant for her ears. “I’ll be right back,” she told them. It was unclear whether either of them heard her.

Luna stepped into the woods near the meadow. Idly, she wondered if she was breaking Hermione’s rules of not leaving. Surely not, as long as she stayed in the trees nearby.

She walked looking all around. Next time, Luna would have to bring Neville with her. She didn’t know all that much about the plants of this area, and they would likely need to go foraging at some point.

Luna nibbled on a rose petal thoughtfully. If there was one thing that she was almost certain the others were wrong about, it was the time frame for which they would be living in 1978. To say they would leave in the next month, let alone the next few days, was a stretch at best.

They would have to form some sort of long-term plan. Even foraging, if Neville was able to identify plants, would not last particularly long. And according to Gamp’s Law, they couldn’t simply conjure food out of nothing.

Luna figured there were still some silver linings of course. At least they landed here in peak summertime. She could not even begin to imagine what it would have been to live in snow covered woods.

As she went further from the meadow, the thickness of the trees let little sunlight into the forest. Luna tapped her wand to the rune carved into her hairclips and bracelets, watching them each begin to glow. Her father had gifted them to her specifically for situations like this.

Suddenly, her attention was caught by something in her periphery. She turned to face it carefully. Magical creatures were often easily spooked.

Upon facing it properly, Luna recognized it as something that likely related closely to the Blibbering Humdinger. It had the rounded ears of a bear, big, empty black eyes, and two grey-green tails that swished gently from side to side.

Blibbering Humdingers were a gentle species. Luna wondered if these close relatives were the same.

“Hello,” she greeted them. The glowing creature tilted its head to one side. “Do you have a name?”

The creature blinked and made a noise sounding something like, “Bleem Blomp.”

Luna beamed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Bleem Blomp.”

The creature skittered away, and Luna went to follow it.

She wished she had her notebook with her. _The Quibbler_ could use a new entry in its new species presentation column.

Although, she figured, most of her old entries would be considered brand new, in 1978. In fact, her father would have only been publishing _The Quibbler_ for a year. The new speciation column probably didn’t even exist yet.

That was a sad thought to have. Luna stopped suddenly and looked around. Concerningly, she wasn’t quite sure where she was.

Luna sighed. Nowhere to go but follow, then.

She ran to catch back up to the Bleem Blomp and found it sitting at the edge of a small creek, squeaking at a small figure curled up on the banks.

Luna paused. The figure looked to be a wizarding child, dressed in fine robes, too young to attend Hogwarts. Luna placed them at maybe seven or eight years old.

“I can see you, you know,” The child said, voice hoarse from tears.

“Are you alright?” she asked them, staying several meters away still.

“Of course,” they sniffed, pretending nothing was wrong.

Luna walked quietly to their side and sat down at the bank next to them.

“It’s alright, you know,” she said softly, “to be sad.”

“I’m not sad,” the sad child argued.

“Alright,” Luna agreed, waiting.

“It’s nothing really, just my sister Tanvi being a dunce,” the child responded sullenly.

“Oh?” Luna asked, reaching a hand out to the Bleem Blomp, trying to coerce it to come closer to her.

“It wasn’t even her fault! She was just mad about Aarti, that’s my other sister. I know it’s irrational for me to be so mad about it,” the child insisted.

Luna hummed. The Bleem Blomp hopped closer, the tips of its tail swishing over her palms. “What did she do?”

The child frowned and turned to her properly. “Are you a _Bhoot_?”

Luna tilted her head to one side. “Do you want me to be?”

“My mother told me not to speak to _Bhoots_ ,” the child shrugged, “But if you are one I don’t mind. Tanvi always tells me to not discriminate. I like your glowing orbs. What’s your name?”

Luna smiled as the Bleem Blomp jumped into her hand and settles down. “Your sister is right. That’s always a good thing to do. My name is Luna.”

The child nodded and stuck out their arm for Luna to shake. “My name’s Janaki Patil, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not proofread this before publishing bc it was like 2:30 am <3<3<3
> 
> Also heads up pretty much every chapter after this one's going to have multiple perspectives since the group is splitting up now


	6. Money, Money, Money, Ain't it Funny?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First half's Ron, second half's Hermione

**June 20, 1978**

It had already been a long day. For one, Hermione had greatly exaggerated their closeness to Oxford. They had been stuck in a series of grimy, packed muggle buses for nearly three hours before the university campus came into view in the distance.

Even once they had reached, it took another hour of wandering aimlessly through Oxford’s muggle campus before they saw a wizarding protest taking place in the near the back side of the Bodleian Library.

The protest, held by witches and wizards in fine black and blue robes, was, absurdly, against the admission of muggle-born students into the school. Ron could practically feel the angry fumes rising out of Hermione’s head as they walked by. He’d had to physically drag her into the small brick wall that served as the entrance to the magical department.

It was lucky, in Ron’s opinion, that they had seen so little of the war in the few days they had spent in the 70s. From what he had heard in Mum’s stories, it was not a good time to be a light wizard.

By the time they finally reached the wizarding department’s library, it was already late afternoon. Their luck did not get better from there.

What?” Ron said to the wizard manning the library’s front desk. He had to have heard wrong.

The library clerk shrugged apologetically. “I’m afraid it’s policy, sir.”

“Right. Well.” Ron said, smiling stiffly. “I’ll just be on my way then, thanks.”

He exited the library quickly, meeting Hermione and Ginny where they stood awkwardly by the front entrance. “We can’t get into the library, there’s a bleeding fee for non-students. Two galleons a card.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Ginny groaned.

“At this point, I say we just break into the bloody building and call it a day,” Ron suggested.

“We’re not going to get anywhere like that,” Hermione sighed, rubbing a hand across her face, “There’s not even a guarantee that we’ll find books on Time-Magic in there. It’s too much of a risk.”

“We can’t just go home,” Ginny argued, waving a crutch around for emphasis, “And, Merlin’s beard, this is the third road-block we’ve hit because we've got no money. We can’t just keep working our way around it!”

“Yeah, well what do you suggest then, Gin? Shall we just get jobs?” Ron asked sarcastically.

Ginny stuck her tongue out at him. Hermione, though, had a thoughtful look on her face. “Actually…”

And so, the three of them found themselves in the shopping district next to Oxford, Lavis Alley. Fortunately, the war hadn’t seemed to affect Lavis as much as it had Diagon.

Less fortunately, the longer they wandered the glittering shops of Lavis, the more stares they got. Apparently, three teenagers dressed in wrinkled robes and dirt, not to mention one with muggle crutches and one without shoes, were out of place in the alley.

After the third sneer sent their way, Ron finally took charge and pulled them into a smaller off-shoot of Lavis that looked quite a bit quieter and grubbier.

Humb Alley reminded Ron a great deal of Knockturn, but without the dark wizards. Instead of being a place that was grimy because of the presence of Dark Magic; its dingy look was simply because no one could spare the time and energy to clean it.

Hermione quickly herded the three of them into the first The three of them entered the first store they saw: a little curio shop named _Three Streak’s Antiques._

The store was surprisingly spacious, full of shelves of knickknacks and memorabilia, each tackier than the next. At the back of the room was an elderly lady with a pair of bright yellow specs. Upon their entrance, she pursed her lips, her eyes flicking back and forth from them to something at her desk. A long moment of silence later, she finally asked, “Can I help you?”

Ron appraised a pair of particularly gaudy sculptures of what looked to be three lambs in wizarding robes that he thought might fit right in at his Aunt Muriel’s house.

After an elbow in the side from Ginny, Ron turned back to the lady and nodded. “Er yeah, actually. We were wondering if you needed any help this afternoon?”

The lady’s eyebrows rose into her hair line.

“Like, paid work,” Ron added quickly.

The lady stared at him, saying nothing. “Right, er—we’ll just leave you to it then,” Ron said anxiously, more than a little bit unsettled.

“You want work, boy? I can give you work,” the lady grunted coming around the corner, “Only got room for one of you lot, though.”

Ron didn’t like the idea of splitting up. Ginny spoke up before he had the chance to voice his discontent: “We’ll take it!”

The lady nodded and pointed to Ron’s left, where Hermione stood, “You, then, girl.”

Ron frowned and glanced back at Hermione, who looked a little bit pale. Oh Merlin, her stomach. They definitely couldn’t leave her here.

“No,” Ron said firmly, “I’ll stay instead.”

The elderly witch didn’t even spare him a glance, “It’s not for debate, I’m afraid.”

Ron grabbed Ginny and Hermione’s arms ready to leave the shop. Hermione shoved him off. “It’s fine, Ron,” she said, not sounding particularly happy about it.

Ron turned to her properly, grabbing her hand. “Hermione, no. I’m not just going to leave you here with,” he threw a look over his shoulder to the witch, who still watched them and lowered his voice, “this batty lady. This place looks like it could be the Oxford version of Borgin and Burkes!”

“I’ll be fine,” Hermione insisted, “and if anything goes wrong…I’ve got my wand and the Portkey.”

“Alright, but you’ve got to Portkey out of here the second you even get a hint of something weird. Don’t wait up for us. We can’t take risks,” Ginny told her, seriously.

Hermione nodded. “If I do end up staying, meet me here,” she glanced down at the watch on Ron’s wrist, “in four hours, six o’clock.”

The elderly witch had apparently had enough of their whispering. “Come now, girl, I’ve not got all day.”

Hermione squeezed Ron’s hand once quickly and passed Ginny the pouch that held their meager funds with a weak smile, “Get library passes and check out every book you find on Time Magic. We can read them together tonight,” she instructed.

Ron could do nothing but nod quickly before Hermione walked away from them through a little door that led into the back of the shop.

Ron stared after her, watching the door swing on its hinges. “She’ll be alright, she’s a member of the DA,” Ginny told him, tugging him out of the store, “Better to worry about us instead. Hermione’s all but given us homework.”

The library clerk raised an eyebrow as Ron re-entered, but said nothing as he passed Ginny two library cards in exchange for the last of their galleons.

After all they had been through, the library better be worth it.

The library was the shape of a large cylindrical tower, it’s curved walls lined with shelves of books that went at least 10 floors high. Books, summoned by librarians and students alike, whizzed through the air.

Ron ducked quickly, only just avoiding one of them that flew right through where his head had been.

“How’d you figure they get up there?” Ginny wondered, looking up. Floating in the center of the room was an abundance of tables that went all the way up the tower, with seated university students talking in low voices or studying silently on their own.

Ron shrugged. “Where should we start? Bottom floor up?”

Ginny nodded, and they made their way to the stairs that spiraled the room, scanning the shelves as they passed them. The ground floor appeared to be primarily dictionaries and periodicals, the first floor fiction and fantasy, the second floor transfiguration, the third floor potions, and the fourth floor care of magical creatures.

By the time they reached the fifth floor, Ron felt like his lungs were going to burst. He stopped for a moment, to catch his breath.

Ginny snickered at him. “Even on these blasted crutches I’m faster than you. So much for being our king Keeper.”

“Shut up,” he hissed at her, wheezing, “You’re like three stone lighter than me, you don’t know what it’s like to carry this much muscle.”

“Of course, of course, my mistake Mr. Beefcake,” Ginny retorted, twisting out of the way easily and using a crutch to block his arm when he tried to grab at her.

When Ron finally had the strength to stand straight up, he saw that Ginny was looking at something over his shoulder with raised eyebrows. She turned back to him quickly. “Don’t look now, but there’s a girl, table below us, staring,” she whispered.

“Course, that’s the muscles doing their work,” Ron said, flexing his arm.

Ginny rolled her eyes and started heading to the next level. “If anyone asks, I don’t know you.”

Ron grinned and followed his sister up the stairs.

\------

Truth be told, Hermione even though she told Ron and Ginny she’d be fine, she had mentally prepared to find herself in some sort of trap.

Suffice to say, she was pleasantly surprised when the old lady, who eventually introduced herself as one Mrs. Adelaide Abbott (Merlin’s beard, Hermione hoped she had no relation to Hannah), had her working in the storeroom for most of the afternoon.

Mrs. Abbott had even given her shoes and a new robe, saying that Hermione couldn’t work at an establishment as well-renowned as hers looking like a street urchin.

The work itself was exceedingly dull, consisting mostly of shuffling through a random assortment of items in large boxes and sorting them by color, size, and type. The items, for the most part, weren’t even magical. Hermione suspected that Ms. Abbott didn’t want a random teenager she had just met to sort through anything truly important.

Mrs. Abbot herself was not particularly interesting either, actually. She spent the afternoon sitting at a desk, fiddling with some sort of wooden carving, barely speaking a word to Hermione beyond calling her “girl” with the occasional order.

Still, it was nice to finally do something so rote for the first time in the last few days. Or even the last few months, really. Had it really been just three days ago that she and Harry had led Umbridge into the forbidden forest?

Hermione couldn’t bring herself to feel bad for hoping that the centaurs had given her what she deserved, after the god-awful year they’d had.

One of the more interesting parts of the afternoon came about an hour into her shift, when a beautiful eagle owl flew into the small shop, a letter and a package attached to its leg. Mrs. Abbott skimmed the letter and snorted, tossing the package to Hermione. “Unwrap it but don’t put them with the other jewelry, girl,” Mrs. Abbott instructed, clearing off her work-space, “And hand me marble bust, will you?”

Hermione caught the package and handed Mrs. Abbott the bust in question: an absolutely horrifying interpretation of Merlin with a spiked mohawk. Mrs. Abbott took the bust and began muttering a series of spells, reworking and transfiguring the marble into something new.

Hermione unwrapped the parcel and took out a small jewelry box. After snapping open the lid, Hermione’s eyes widened.

Inside was a beautiful set of delicate black diamond earrings, clearly more expensive than any of the items in the curio shop. In fact, the earrings looked like they could be more expensive than the entire shop itself.

Hermione quickly snapped the box back shut, not wanting to damage them, and set them to the side, as Mrs. Abbott had said.

The second most interesting part of the afternoon was near the end of Hermione’s shift, when she was putting out some new items from the storeroom on display. A chime at the fireplace signaled the entering of a customer; the first one Hermione had seen the whole day.

“Hello, Adelaide! Got anything interesting to show me today?” an elderly lady called out as she flooed into the store. Upon seeing Hermione, she made her way to her and stuck her arm out, “You must be Adelaide’s new assistant! My name is Gretta, Gretta Greengrass.”

Hermione paled. What were the chances that she met the grandparents of two of her year-mates in an alley hundreds of kilometers away from Hogwarts and 17 years in the past?

“Er—I’m Hermione,” she introduced herself, taking the lady’s hand and shaking it delicately. Mrs. Greengrass beamed. “Beautiful name! And that hair! Absolutely one of a kind.”

Mrs. Abbott came out of the storeroom just in time. “Gretta you’re scaring her,” she said, not sounding as though she cared.

“Not scaring, simply admiring,” Gretta said enthusiastically, “This is an occasion to remember! Shall celebrate with a spot of tea?”

Hermione hoped that the clearly unsociable Mrs. Abbott would decline. Unfortunately, luck was not in her favor, as Mrs. Abbott nodded without a second thought, transfiguring the cashier desk she had into a small round table with a tea set.

Mrs. Greengrass ushered Hermione into a chair, and before she knew it, Hermione found herself sipping on tea with two gossiping old ladies.

“…I told him, no Mr. Gorgans, we cannot with a clear conscience sell you a single drop more of Dreamless sleep. And do you know what he said to me? He said he’d never bring his to my shop again, and none of his children either,” Mrs. Greengrass took a drink of her tea, “And so I said, very well then sir, and, oh Hermione would you like some more?”

Hermione looked down at her cup, surprised to find it empty. Strange, over the last few days she had hardly been able to stomach anything. As if on cue, Hermione’s stomach rumbled. She nodded quickly and reached for a cookie while Mrs. Greengrass poured her some more. Maybe she was finally getting better.

“And so I said, very well then, good day sir,” Mrs. Greengrass continued, “And I went and blacklisted his family name at every apothecary in the alley.”

Hermione smiled into her cup. If there was anything she had learned in the past half hour of tea with Mrs. Greengrass, it was to never cross her or her apothecary.

Even Mrs. Abbott chuckled, shaking her head. “You’ve not changed, Gretta, not in fourty years.”

“Why thank you,” Mrs. Greengrass smiled, “Have I told you of the time, with, oh what was that old hat’s name—oh that’s right, with Mr. Fiddlemore?”

“No, but we’ll have to put the story on hold for now,” Mrs. Abbott interjected, looking out to the front of her shop, “I think your friends are here for you, girl.”

Hermione turned to the front of the store. Sure enough, Ron and Ginny stood outside, the older boy carrying the books they had collected. Hermione stood quickly, setting her teacup down.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Greengrass, Mrs. Abbott,” she said, surprised to find herself telling the truth. She hoped that these nice old ladies survived the war.

“Any time, dear,” Mrs. Greengrass said warmly. Mrs. Abbott just nodded and reached into her pocket, handing Hermione her allotted set of galleons.

But when Hermione turned to leave, Mrs. Abbott caught her sleeve and said, “Not so fast, girly.”

Hermione paused, looking back at her temporary boss. “I expect you here again tomorrow, 8 am,” Mrs. Abbott said sharply.

Hermione frowned, “I—”

Mrs. Abbot shook her head, “No exceptions. You owe me for the robe and shoes.”

Hermione hesitated, thinking. It wasn’t likely, she supposed, that they would be able to read all of those stacks of books Ron and Ginny held in just one night. And even if they did, no real harm would come if she simply didn’t show up tomorrow.

“Of course, Mrs. Abbott,” Hermione agreed, “Eight in the morning.” The elderly lady nodded, let go of Hermione’s sleeve, and sat back down at the tea-table

Hermione waved a quick goodbye to the ladies and made her way out of the store to Ron and Ginny.

“Blimey, Hermione,” Ron said, wavering under the stack of books, “We spend the day hard at work in the library and you get an afternoon off drinking tea? How’s that for fair?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and counted the Galleons she had been paid. Fifteen in total, for 4 hours’ work.

“We’ve enough now to buy food,” Hermione told them, “I think I saw a restaurant down the way. And we should take back something for the others as well.”

Eventually, steaming bags of food in Hermione’s hands (as well as some Humb Alley rocks to turn into Portkeys), the three of them Portkey’ed back into the forest.

Strangely, they landed next to Luna, who also appeared to be recovering from her own Portkey trip.

“Oh, you’re all back! How wonderful,” she said, dreamily, “Shall we head to the meadow?”

The four of them made their way into the grove in the forest, where they found Harry and Neville hard at work on…something.

“Hey guys,” Harry said, distracted, casting a spell on whatever it was they held.

“What’s got you lot in a tizzy,” Ginny asked, setting her crutches down and limping over to them.

“We’re making a chair!” Neville answered unhelpfully, not looking up from carving something into what Hermione now recognized a small tree branch with the bark stripped off.

“…Why?” Ron asked, setting the books on the meadow floor.

Both of the boys simply shrugged. Harry’s eyes lit up as the landed on the bags of food in Hermione’s hands. “Have you brought dinner then?”

Hermione nodded and sat down, spreading all of the take-out in front of her. The six of them sat down in a circle, silently eating full meals for the first time in over a day.

What it was that had brought this sudden enthusiasm to building furniture, Hermione wasn't quite sure. Sometimes, she decided, it was not worth it to even ask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've added dates to the beginning of each chapter bc my pea brain cant handle numbers


	7. Chairs, Games, Tea, and War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Head's up this chapter's a bit weird in timing-- They talk about the day after the events of last chapter, but in reality it's been about 9 or so days since then.

**June 30, 1978**

As it turns out, learning the fundamentals of time travel from books taken out of a public library wasn’t nearly as easy as it seemed.

Even Hermione, with her seemingly endless knowledge of pointless facts, couldn’t piece together enough from the encyclopedias to give them a good idea of how to go back in time.

Harry was surprisingly alright with it. This was the first summer he had felt as though he was on vacation in…well maybe in his whole life. It wasn’t the Dursley’s where he’d be doing an endless list of chores, and it wasn’t even the Weasley’s where he’d be stuck without magic for months.

Here, in the meadow, it was almost freeing. Hell, if they never found a way back, he wouldn’t even have to find a way to defeat Voldemort for another seventeen years. Almost a dream come true.

The others of course, wouldn’t agree with this. Harry could see the disappointment in Hermione’s face every time she had to shut a book without finding anything. He was sure she was close to ripping her hair out most nights.

Either way, they spent long hours every evening pouring through the books Ron and Ginny had borrowed after eating the dinner Hermione brought (and putting preserving charms over tomorrow’s lunch—after the first few days, one meal was no longer going to cut it).

As for the daylight hours, Harry and Neville spent them building random furniture and talking.

It had all started with a single chair.

The day Ron, Ginny, and Hermione had left for Oxford for the first time had been something of a depressing mess. 

He and Neville sat in the center of the meadow, trading messy life stories. Harry learned about Neville’s horrible great-uncle and his pushy but well-meaning nan. In turn, Neville learned all about the Dursleys and growing up as a loner in the muggle world.

Harry told Neville all about struggling with suddenly being thrown into a world where everyone knew him and his parents, and how strange it was that so many others knew his parents better than he did. Neville responded with stories about visiting his parents all through his childhood, trying to match their sallow faces with the stories he’d heard from their old friends.

So yeah, it was a bit of a pity party overall. But it felt—nice, to finally be able to speak to someone who had experienced as tragic of a life as he had.

And so, the afternoon drew out long. Somewhere along the way they had stopped sharing stories, instead opting to trade wishes.

“I wish Snape stopped being such a prick all the time,” Neville said, picking at the grass next to him.

“I wish Lupin’d stayed on as a professor after third year. for once,” Harry responded, staring at the clouds overhead.

“I wish Umbridge’ll be sacked when we get back,” Neville sighed. Harry snorted.

“Did Hermione ever tell you what we did?” Harry asked turning his head to one side to look at Neville.

Neville glanced up from the grass and shook his head. Harry grinned and filled him in.

By two, when the hunger pangs had properly set in, they’d switched topics.

“No, no it’s true!” Harry insisted gesturing wildly, “the single best part ‘bout Halloween is the treacle tart, hands down.”

“Not a chance,” Neville scoffed, “This is slander against the Yorkshire pudding and I won’t hear any of it.”

By four, they were talking about houses. More specifically, wizarding houses.

“And then I went to their sink, and like whoosh,” Harry gestured, “the dishes were doing themselves!”

“Of course, it’s a wizarding house, it wouldn’t just let its _owners_ do dishes,” Neville said, confused.

“What?” Harry asked, dropping his arms.

“It’s,” Neville paused, considering, “Infused in it n’ all.”

“…What?” Harry said, uncomprehending.

Neville turned to face Harry properly. “Like when I’ve got something, and it’s just…an object at first, the more I use magic near it, the more it learns to do it on its own. The sink’d probably had so many wizards over the years do magic in front of it that it just decided to do it itself.”

“So they're...alive?" Harry asked, in disbelief. 

Neville nodded, enthusiastically, “Yeah, kind of! It’s really quite interesting. That’s actually how wands work too! They start off just as magic conduits. After years on years of using ‘em that they get really good; the best duelers have the same want their entire lives!” Neville paused, thinking, "Though that's usually why wands reject second users most of the time, too."

Harry frowned. “Ron used a family wand, till 2nd year. And don’t you have your Dad’s too?” 

“I used to,” Neville sagged, “that ended three days ago.”

Harry winced. “Sorry, mate. But maybe it’s for the best? And say, I suppose there’s an intact version of it, where we are now.”

Neville blinked. “I guess you’re right! Strange, I hadn’t even thought of that.”

Harry nodded encouragingly. “Yeah, now all you’ve got to do is get a new one!” An idea popped into his mind. “How hard is it, would you say, to make one?”

“Er—extraordinarily difficult,” Neville said, “You can’t just go about _making_ wands. We’re not exactly Ollivanders.”

“What’s there in it?” Harry shrugged, “We’re wizards. And we’re in the forest! Here—”

Harry used a quick _Diffindo_ , breaking a branch from a tree nearby and yanking it toward him with an awkward sideways _Accio_.

Neville’s eyes widened, “Mate, come on! That elder must’ve been growing that branch for decades.”

“Er, sorry,” Harry told the tree. He tossed the stick to Neville. “Go on, wave it.”

“This is stupid,” Neville said, waving the stick about, “And look how big it is! I can’t even wrap my hand all the way round, it’s rather more like a chair leg than a tree.”

Harry shook his head, “No it’d need to be flat the end for a chair leg.”

“Your absolutely right,” Neville said seriously. He smacked the tree branch vertically on the ground, breaking off the uneven edges, “There how’s that?”

“Better, now we’ve just got another three legs to come up with,” Harry said snickering. He waved his wand toward another tree at the edge of the meadow. “How’s oak sound?”

“Are we really doing this?” Neville asked. At Harry’s shrug, he stood. “Wait, no more _Diffindos_ , let me.”

He went over to the edge of the forest examining the leaf litter for a moment, and returned with three branches in hand.

They spent another hour or so stripping the bark from the branches and talking about everything from to classes.

“Really? Not Herbology?” Harry asked, surprised. Even now, Neville had sorted through the plants in the meadow, collecting leaves and flower buds from them.

Neville shook his head, counting his flowers. “No, don’t get me wrong, I love Herbology, I really do. But I like it as…I don’t know, a subject I suppose. The class itself kind of dull. Now Ancient Runes, on the other hand…I don’t think I’ll ever be using it again now that OWLs are over, but the class was mad fun.”

“Huh,” Harry said thoughtfully, stripping the last of the branches. Neville turned to him, presenting the plants proudly in front of him, “Behold, the key to our chair’s success!”

“What do you mean?” Harry said, taking a spring of some grass. Neville took the seat of the chair, which Harry had magically detached from a tree stump, and began rubbing some of the flowers along the stripped chair legs.

“It’s all infusions! Just like the dishes.” Neville said excitedly, “magical plants for the enrichment of a magic chair. Come on, you’re the one with the wand. Teach the chair what it ought to be!”

Harry cast a _Spongify_ on the chair’s seat. “Er—don’t think I know too many other household spells.”

Neville shrugged, “It doesn’t have to be spells specifically for chairs; just cast anything, any charms you know.”

Harry nodded slowly, understanding, “I have been missing charms homework I suppose.”

Harry considered what else he knew. He burned the chairs with an _Incendio_ to teach it warmth and promptly put it out with an _Auguamenti_ to teach it to clean itself _._ Feeling bolder now, he cast a _Patronus_ , sending a galloping Prongs through the chair’s pieces to teach it joy.

Neville laughed running his hands through Prong’s feet and brightened further, grabbing a rock from nearby and starting to carve Runes into the pieces. “And here I thought I’d never use Runes again after passing the OWLs.”

That was how the others found them, eventually, casting a meaningless flurry of charms and carving runes into wonky, bit charred, but magically-infused stool.

Nine days later, before they knew it, they had six chairs (one for each of them!). And after the chairs, tired of eating off the floor, they built a dining table.

“What now? Beds?” Neville asked, carving one last rune into their brand-new table.

Harry grinned at him, nodding.

Then he paused for a moment, looking around the meadow. “Say, where’d Luna go?”

\------------

Luna had learned an abundance of things in the past ten days she’d spent playing with little Janaki Patil at the river.

For one, Janaki absolutely adored her elder sister, Tanvi.

“Tanvi _always_ used to tell me the story of _The Wizard and the Hopping Pot_. Do you know it?” Janaki babbled excitedly. “We made a game with it and everything!”

Strangely, Luna came to learn, Tanvi Patil was simultaneously also the absolute bane of Janaki’s existence, even while she presently was nearly 500 kilometers away in Hogwarts.

“But Tanvi sent me a letter this morning,” Janaki quietened, mood dropping, “She said she’d never play the game with me anymore, that it’s too grow-tes-cue. Do you know what that means?”

Luna’s heart ached. “How do you play?” she asked the child.

Janaki responded to the offer with the biggest smile Luna had ever seen her wear. “It’s quite simple really you see…”

Janaki went on to describe one of the most incomprehensible games Luna ever had the pleasure of hearing in her life.

“I’ll even let you be the Hopping Pot this time!” Jankai said, bright-eyed, brandishing a bright purple toy-wand. Luna smiled and crouched down, jumping around the stream and splashing water all over the both of them.

Janaki shrieked and ran off laughing, screaming a fake spells as the wizard or pretending to be muggles chasing Luna the Hopping Pot about.

Besides, playing with Janaki let her do another, more selfish thing. Over the days, Luna had come to the realization that Janaki, for whatever reason, seemed to attract an abundance of magical creatures.

Even now, as she splashed around the river, she could see the little glowing animals out of the corners of her eyes. They never got close enough to touch, not like the Bleem Blomp the first day had, but they were always there, watching.

Luna had asked Janaki once, about the creatures. The girl simply looked at her funny and asked what she meant by creatures.

That answered almost none of Luna’s questions. Luna absolutely adored speaking with Janaki.

The creatures were not deterred by Janaki’s apparent disinterest in seeing them. They danced around her, singing songs, playing along with her games, and absolutely filling the riverbank with magic.

Sometimes, it almost felt like Luna was drowning in it. It was wonderful, like a heavy, warm blanket.

Eventually, the child tired of running about and declared it was time for lunch.

Janaki went to sit on a large rock on the riverbank and took a little flute off of a belt at her waist. With a few sweetly blown notes, a witch in rags came to the child’s side.

The witch’s name, Luna learned after getting over the shock of her appearance the first day she had appeared, was Aunty Chidiya, who had been serving the Patil family as nanny and a maid since they had immigrated to Britain.

Aunty Chidiya was gracious and kind, not once questioning Luna’s presence or how Janaki had met her. When Luna had asked once where Janaki’s mother and father were, Aunty Chidiya had given her a sad look and said that it was nice Janaki was finally opening up and speaking with other people.

Luna did not ask again.

Instead, she asked Aunty Chidiya about other things. For instance, Luna learned that the river marked the edge of the Patil’s property grounds, and that Janaki had been coming here far longer than Luna had.

Lunch itself was generally a slow affair. Janaki liked to take her time eating, getting distracted by every bubbling fish in the creek and pestering Luna for stories.

Luna happily obliged; it wasn’t often someone listened to her with such rapt interest. Today’s story was about an evil, bright pink mountain troll who stormed a castle and the clever band of pixies that pranked their way into stealing it back from her.

When lunch ended and Aunty Chidiya apparated back to the Patil’s house, Luna stayed with the child for a few more hours. Ginny, Hermione, and Ron weren’t usually back until around 6 in the evening, and Luna liked to stay with Janaki as long as she possibly could without being late.

After all, what Luna had learned most of all in the last ten days was that Janaki was a lonely, lonely, lonely child.

Luna didn’t mind of course; she too had been that lonely child not so long ago.

\------------

Work at the _Three Streak’s Antiques_ was boring. Hermione had been unsure of how the place was still in business; they got maybe three customers in a single week.

Of course, that was before Hermione realized the true business that Mrs. Abbott sold—sculpture commissions.

Most days, Mrs. Abbott would leave Hermione to do some menial task, like sorting the pieces, scrubbing the floor, or manning the empty cashier, while sitting at her work desk and carving new sculptures.

In Hermione’s opinion, the sculptures were…not particularly good. They never looked like what they were meant to and were always a bit sharp around the edges. But for whatever reason, Mrs. Abbott got several owls a day in trade for them.

“Oh, it’s very…intricate,” Hermione said, holding one such sculpture before packaging it. The sculpture was made of white stone and was in the shape of some animal with bright red gems for eyes (a whale? A worm? Hermione honestly couldn’t be sure). “What is it?”

Mrs. Abbott snorted. “It’s a peacock, girly. Now less questions, more packaging.”

Hermione did just that. A white peacock, she mused, might be for the Malfoys. She could still remember the eerie albino birds crawling around the grounds of the Quidditch World Cup.

Unfortunately, she could never check her suspicions. Mrs. Abbott had Hermione pack all of the boxes, but she would write the addresses and tie them to the owls herself.

She handed the package to Mrs. Abbott as the chime of the floo rang, signaling someone had entered the store. Hermione glanced at the cuckoo clock above Mrs. Abbott’s work desk. 5 o’clock on the dot.

As it turned out, Mrs. Greengrass didn’t actually need an occasion to visit. Every afternoon, the last hour of Hermione’s shift was spent sitting at a transfigured table with Mrs. Abbott and Mrs. Greengrass, drinking tea.

Hermione didn’t mind in the least; she still got paid for it, and Mrs. Greengrass and Mrs. Abbott had very interesting topics of conversation. Hermione always left work for the day feeling energized and warm.

Today’s topic of conversation was not a happy one. “Did you hear? Another muggle city attacked,” said Mrs. Abbot as Mrs. Greengrass poured Hermione a cup of tea.

Hermione took the tea while Mrs. Greengrass nodded gravely. “I saw, in the paper. Very messy, all of it. And to think, just as Hogwarts is about to let out again!”

“We don’t need another war,” Mrs. Abbott sighed, settling into her seat, “It feels as though we’ve only just gotten out of the last one.”

Mrs. Greengrass scoffed. “The last war was thirty years ago now, Adelaide. It’s about time we had another.”

Hermione frowned into her cup. “Now whatever do you mean by that?” Mrs. Abbott asked, eyebrows raised.

“Peace doesn’t last,” Greengrass said sipping from her cup daintily, “At least this time around we’re not going off slaughtering each other.”

“That's false,” Mrs. Abbott said, deadpan, “And you cannot pretend to not know it, Gretta. I won't hear such lies in my store.”

Mrs. Greengrass hardly seemed bothered by Mrs. Abbott’s tone. “Yes, yes, of course,” the elderly lady waved it off, “You must admit that it will never be as bad as the war with Grindelwald, as long as the Grey Court isn’t drawn in.”

Mrs. Abbott grunted in acknowledgement. “The Grey Court? What’s that?” Hermione asked.

“Oh, I always forget you’re not from around these parts, dear,” Mrs. Greengrass said with a smile, turning to her.

Hermione blushed. A few days ago, when Mrs. Greengrass had asked what made Hermione suddenly seek out a job with Mrs. Abbott, Hermione had hedged a quick story about being from up north and having to come here to care for her younger cousins.

“The Grey Court’s a road, not 30 kilometers from Lavis,” Greengrass explained, “It houses most of the influential grey families in Britain; that’s where it gets its name.”

Mrs. Abbott’s face scrunched up, as if her tea suddenly tasted awful. “Best not to let that lot into the war.”

Mrs. Greengrass turned to Hermione, “Yes, nothing but a mess that would be. If it does come down to it, though, and you and your cousins find yourselves needing to escape Humb, do come find me. The Apothecary always has room for more.”

Hermione nodded, knowing she’d never be doing that. As much as she would like to visit the Greengrass Apothecary, it was located on Diagon Alley, and quite frankly, Hermione didn’t plan on going there for another thirteen years.

\------------

When they had first gotten here, Ginny had actually really liked the library. It had everything that the Hogwarts library didn’t: big bright windows, dangerous, floating glass tables, and chaotic flurries of books going all around. And even the people inside seemed more enthusiastic; it made the idea of studying in it almost fun.

Within two and a half days, they had pretty much scoured the entire library’s collection and pulled all the books that discussed Time Magic. The following days were all it took to realize that those books had nothing in them that they were not already aware of: time travel was bad and dangerous, and should therefore never be done.

Suffice to say that ten days into researching Time Magic, Ginny no longer enjoyed the library. She banged her head against the glass on the flying table they were on.

This morning, Ron had insisted that they go through every level of the shelves once more, just in case they missed something the first time around.

Ginny let him go off and do that on his own. Ginny was doubtful that any of the books that they had left behind (if there were any such books at all) would be worth reading. In the meantime, she was content as could be to sit at their table and pretend to read from yet another ancient and hopelessly dry tome.

_The main danger to be found in manipulating time comes not from time itself, but instead from space. One need not look far to see precisely why this is so: consider the sapling of a tree growing in the ground. The sapling takes up space, yet the tree takes up time…_

Ginny felt her eyes begin to droop. Rubbing a hand over her face, she pushed the book off to the side.

She glanced over her shoulder, trying to gauge how many floors Ron had left to cover. The answer was too many; he had hardly climbed past the first level.

Ginny groaned and turned to go back to the reading when her eye caught on something. Or, not something, but _someone._

It was the girl, again. The one who Ginny had caught staring at the pair of them their very first day at the library, and nearly every day after that too. Their own personal college student stalker.

She’d gotten bolder, Ginny realized with a start, taking the table next to theirs for the first time. Usually, the brown-haired girl simply chose to stare at them from across the room. Ginny frowned, concerned.

She had never put much cadence into Ron’s theory that the girl was interested in him, but even if she had she would know it was wrong now; even without Ron at the table, the girl was staring.

Ginny, never one to back down from a challenge, stared back, raising an eyebrow. Maybe today’s library trip would bring something a little bit more interesting.

The stalker tilted her head to one side, considering Ginny carefully. After a long moment, she seemed to find what she was looking for; she abruptly stood collected her things.

Ginny tensed as the girl raised her wand, preparing to grab her own, but to no avail. The girl simply cast a well-placed transfiguration of the glass bench she had been sitting on into a walkway between her table and theirs.

Ginny said nothing, tracking the girl’s movement with her eyes. Ginny threw a nervous glance over her shoulder, searching the stacks. Where was Ron? Ginny really didn’t want to be talking to this girl alone.

The girl pulled out the bench at the side of the table directly next to Ginny. “Is this seat taken?” she asked mildly, sitting down before Ginny could say no, “You’re not being very slick, you know.”

“Excuse me?” Ginny asked warily.

The stalker looked at Ginny like she was stupid, “Discrete” she intoned slowly, “You ought to be more discrete.”

Ginny was not going to just sit there and be insulted. “I’m not sure what you mean,” she bit out, “Not that you’re one to talk about discreteness, coming here and staring at us every day.”

The girl scoffed, “You can’t compare yourselves to me; I’ve no reason to be discrete. You two, on the other hand, very much do.”

Ginny did not like where this conversation was going one bit. “I mean come on,” the stalker continued, “You come here in the same strange robes every day, spend all day studying although too you’re young to be attending university, and only check out books on dark magic. Even if I didn’t have the sight, I’d be keeping an eye on you.”

Ginny froze. Merlin’s beard, a seer. If Ron could come in at anytime to save the day, now would be it. “Mind your business,” she told the girl, hoping it came out stronger than it felt.

Suddenly, the girl straightened in her seat, eyes widening. “You…don’t know who I am.” She sounded shocked.

“…No?” Ginny replied, more confused than scared now. Was this girl famous in this time period? Ginny racked her brain for any celebrity divination students that might have existed.

“Curious…But, no, I won’t waste tears thinking on it,” the girl shook her head resolutely. She stuck an arm out, “My name is Morgan Mckinnon, and I think I just might be able to help you, time-traveling Prewett.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so for this chapter I gotta give some credit out for ideas: 
> 
> 1) The magic items are alive thing I got from ShanaStoryteller's "Never Grow a Wishbone"  
> 2) The Mckinnons are seers thing I got from LullabyKnell's "face death in the hope"
> 
> There are more things I'm going to be stealing from stories in the future too, so look out for more credits in later chapters! (Any stories I credit down here I def recommend checking out if you've not read them)
> 
> Also we're fiiiiinally getting some familiar faces next chapter so be on the look out <3<3<3<3

**Author's Note:**

> Imma upload pretty frequently, kinda whenever I have the time. 
> 
> Literally might post again today because i don't feel like doing internship apps


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